The texts were coming one after another every fifteen minutes. They had been coming promptly every ten minutes the hour before their date. Kyuhyun watched each one pop up on his phone screen, reading and memorizing the words as if it was a game to see just how much Ryeowook wanted him.

He never responded though.

Kyuhyun just watched. He watched it fall apart. He knew it was falling apart. At first, it was just amusing to see how far he could push Ryeowook before the man was on the brink of giving up. That was when Kyuhyun would pull him back in, hold him close and shower him with all of the affection anyone could ever want.

But that night was different.

He wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor. He wasn’t trying to wake up with a beautiful stranger beside him. He wasn’t even in a meeting.

On that night, he was alone in his office, watching the snow fall for the first time. The city was breathtaking from the company building’s high vantage point. His eyes would shift back and forth between the large glass panels and the buzzing phone.

I haven’t seen you all week, Kyu. I can’t wait until tonight.

I just got off work. I’m headed over to the restaurant now.

Just ten minutes until you’re with me again…I hope you’re doing well.

Are you on your way? It’s almost seven.

I’m in the back corner. I ordered your favorite wine.

Is traffic bad? It must be. I hope you get here soon.

Will you answer me? Or are you stuck in a meeting?

They brought me a basket of bread. I haven’t tried it yet. Will you be here soon?

You’re not coming again, are you?

He would slide his fingers over every word, tracing them as if he was touching Ryeowook for real. Each letter burned and numbed Kyuhyun’s senses, pumping adrenaline into his body while his mind grew more and more detached.

It was his sort of end game. Ryeowook was at his limit – Kyuhyun knew that clearly. He had anticipated it, but he had yet to decide if it was the right choice to take him back then.

Ryeowook was in love with him, but was Kyuhyun ever in love with him? They had been married out of persistence and interest, respectively. The whole concept of marriage hadn’t been extremely interesting to Kyuhyun to begin with and from the very beginning, he had not planned for it to be permanent.

It was a way to pass the time until something more interesting came along. Ryeowook was a constant in his life and for the past five years, that had been fine. However, Kyuhyun had to wonder if it was enough. He spent every night out and about with other people, platonically and/or ually, so was there even a need for Ryeowook anymore? Their marriage was a farce, as was their relationship prior to the lawful bond.

The game had dried up.

Kyuhyun quietly closed the door to their home, finding it empty of life except for a small note from his older brother.

Sorry, Kangin needed help putting the kids to sleep. I’ll come and check on you tomorrow night, okay? Love you! –Leeteuk

He shrugged, tossing the note into the trash. Taking the steps one at a time, he wondered with a mixture of thrill and anxiety what he would find on the other side of his master bedroom door. What would the end of this game look like?

Did Ryeowook throw a tantrum?

Would there be broken glass?

Would his stuff be in shreds?

Kyuhyun pushed the door open, pain crashing down like the coldest ocean wave. He looked around, expecting some sort of emotional reaction. Ryeowook was all about emotions. His tears came quickly and his words came out without regard for anything else. That’s what Ryeowook was like – so why, at such a difficult time, did he leave no trace?

Why wasn’t there a grand finale?

It was as if Ryeowook had never existed. His stuff was clearly there, yet they felt untouched – decorations from a model house. Even Ryeowook’s side of the bed seemed lifeless though Kyuhyun was positive he had slept there the previous night.

The only thing out of order was the folder on the bed and the hideous red sweater beside it. He slowly brushed his fingertips over the paper flap, sliding it open to find a divorce contract. The spaces were already filled in for Ryeowook. Not even a sticky note marked his presence. It was just more cold paperwork – the same kind Kyuhyun filled out day after day.

His attention shifted to the red sweater, immediate hope swelling his chest. Ryeowook hadn’t been completely cold. That was what was important. Kyuhyun tried to smirk as if he had gained some small victory, but his muscles felt frozen. Confused, he touched his face, only then surprised to feel the cool skin drenched with tears.

Quickly walking to the bathroom, he flicked on the light, seeing his cheeks wet, a torrent of clear liquid seeping from his eyes. Wiping at it, he tried to stop it, but the tears were endless. Kyuhyun tried to furrow his brow, but his muscles still weren’t listening.

Shaking his head once, he attempted to blink away the stinging liquid, but it only fell harder.

***

Leeteuk pushed the door open, carrying a bag of homemade food in one hand. He shut and locked the door, making his way upstairs to the master bedroom. A part of him worried that he would find an emotionless Kyuhyun who had already submitted the divorce papers. If that was the case, he knew that whatever possibility of reconciliation as existed before would surely no longer even be an option.

“Kyuhyun…?” Leeteuk called softly, peeking into the room.

The lights were off, darkness casting shadows across the rumpled sheets. A soft groan rose up from the blankets and pillows, a black head of hair popping up.

“Asleep at this hour?” his older brother chuckled, setting the food down. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Kyuhyun mumbled, sitting up. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt, pale skin looking even more ghostly than normal. “What time is it?”

“Eight in the evening,” Leeteuk responded slowly.

“Oh…,” he rubbed his eyes, wincing, “it’s late.” Kyuhyun squinted at his older brother, tears rolling down his face. Cursing under his breath, he wiped at them.

“Are you alright?” he frowned, reaching out to the younger male’s hair.

“I don’t know. I think something is wrong with me,” he shook his head, “When I’m awake, I can’t stop crying. They won’t stop and I don’t know why.” Kyuhyun ground his teeth. “What’s wrong with me?” He squeezed his eyes shut, the stinging salt burning them.

Leeteuk stared, speechless.

“I would normally ask Ryeowook about this weird stuff but…well, you already know,” he laughed, but it was breathless and hollow. Leeteuk wondered if Kyuhyun knew how lifeless he sounded.

“Did you sign the papers?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

“My hands are too shaky to do anything,” Kyuhyun grumbled, “I tried a couple of times already, but every time I get close to the paper, my fingers start shaking too hard to write anything.” He cursed again, angrily rubbing his eyes. “They hurt. I need to wash them again.” Kyuhyun fumbled out of bed, teetering to the bathroom.

He grasped the counter for support, turning on the faucet and flushing his eyes out.

Leeteuk watched in awe, unable to even comprehend the level of grief his little brother was experiencing. It was even beyond Kyuhyun’s realm of understanding. Then again, he wasn’t exactly the most emotionally-oriented person.

“Have you tried calling Ryeowook?” Leeteuk asked.

Kyuhyun shook his head, staggering back to bed and lying down. His eyes were shut, but tears continued to leak out. “He already said goodbye to me.”

“When?”

“The sweater.”

“What?” Leeteuk frowned.

“It was winter when we first started dating,” Kyuhyun explained in a soft voice, hands folded over his stomach, “I lent him that sweater because it was the only one he could fit. I told him he can keep that horrible sweater so long as he wants an equally horrible person to be with him.” His words were even but hoarse, as if detached and hurt at the same time. “It’s our promise. Well, it was.”

“It doesn’t have to end, Kyuhyun,” he sighed patiently, “you can go find him.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered, “he’s gone and I caught the flu or something. It’s a ty week, that’s all.”

“Why are you so outspoken and concise normally, but when it comes to him, you’re such a mess?” Leeteuk shook his head. “You keep trying to think rationally about him, but you clearly care about him in a way that you can’t even understand.”

Kyuhyun scoffed. “You’re annoying. Just leave already.”

He considered arguing more, but it was obvious that there was no getting through to him. If Kyuhyun couldn’t come to understand on his own, he would never understand. There was no way to properly explain someone’s feelings to that someone. They already have the answers, but they refuse to accept them.

“I’ll leave the food here. Try to eat something,” Leeteuk murmured, resigned.

Standing up, he headed out of the room to the soft snoring of his little brother.